Destiny's Variance
by planet p
Summary: A "The Daedalus Variations" for Universe, kind of. Chloe/Nicholas, sorta.
1. Chapter 1

Chloe planted a hand upon her belly, swollen with pregnancy, as she moved faster through the corridors of the _Destiny_. She was late for an appointment with Tamara. As she walked, the corridor was doused in darkness.

_Damn!_

The power had failed again.

"Come on, Nicholas," she muttered, almost holding her breath. She began to count the seconds that passed.

Now she was really going to be late; Tammy would be suitably upset. She couldn't see her patients in the dark, unfortunately.

She began to hum Ashley Simpson's _L.O.V.E._

_Come on, Nick_, she thought silently. He'd get the power back up and running any moment now, just like he always did. It worried her, too, that it had been happening with greater frequency, and still, there was no explanation of what could be causing it, at least, no _sane_ explanation.

Vicious fluffy aliens that could cloak themselves in invisibility didn't count, despite what it always said in the comics.

A strange rush of energy passed through her, and, just then, the lights returned, along with the remaining offline systems.

"Thank you, Nick."

* * *

"Excuse me, is that supposed to be some sort of joke?"

The voice, coming from directly behind her, startled her, and she spun about. She cut herself off before she could say anything, panic slowly creeping into her.

The man's frown deepened at the sight of her, and he shuffled closer to the terminal he'd apparently been examining in the wall, before her interruption.

But-

He'd not been there before.

Had he?

"Are you…" It was a preposterous thing to ask, she told herself, but pushed on with it anyway, "Nicholas?"

"No, I'm Spock," the man replied.

For a moment, quite a moment, as it turned out, Chloe didn't catch onto the sarcasm.

Until he said: "What does it look like?" That's when it hit her – a joke.

She shook her head. This wasn't her… her Nicholas. She felt the baby give a kick, echoing her own worry, and scooted forward.

A look of utter confusion crossed the man's face as she took up his hand and placed it upon her belly.

"Baby notices," she said. Then, in a smaller voice, "I'm frightened."

The man drew his hand from her grasp, urgently, and allowed a step's length between them.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked, begging him with her eyes. "Please tell me, Nick."

"You're not Chloe," he deduced, suddenly. Yes, his eyes reflected that he was sure in his judgment.

"Nicholas?" Chloe whined, though she hated herself for it. She was scared. She was so scared.

"I'm not Nicholas; not to you," the man told her.

She shook her head; her legs had begun to tremble. The baby was deathly still, anticipating. A tiny whimper clawed its way up her throat, she closed her mouth to catch it, feeling her throat constrict. Why couldn't she breathe all of a sudden?

"Rush?"

Chloe turned at the same time as the man – Rush – stepped to look past her to the owner of the voice.

Chloe recognised the man as Master Sergeant Donald Greer. "Donald," she began.

The man's gaze snapped to her, then he stared for a bit. "Ronald," he said, finally.

"Wh-what?" Her eyes clouded with confusion; it took a few moments for the realisation of her mistake to dawn on her. "I apologise, Master Sergeant," she told him, intending to go on, but-

"Armstrong, right?" Greer questioned.

Chloe felt breathlessness wallop her in the chest, as it had before. "R-rush," she mumbled, tears mottling her vision with patches of blurred colour amongst the sharper images. Suddenly, she was too cold.

"Excuse me? What?" came Rush's offended voice from beside her.

She closed her eyes rather than look at him, feeling, as she did, the tears that she'd been holding in her eyes slide from their erstwhile containment and smooth themselves along the curve of her cheeks. This man wasn't her Nicholas. Her Nicholas was… gone!

A sob escaped her throat, and she balled up her fists tight. No, she would not cry in front of these strangers!

She heard the voices of Rush and Greer again, Rush was telling Greer to call for someone called T.J., and then Greer seemed to speak into some sort of communication device.

Chloe didn't open her eyes. She'd keep them closed until Nicholas came for her, she didn't even care how _silly_ that sounded.

A jolt ran through her at the feeling of hands on her arms but she stubbornly kept her eyes shut.

"Chloe, that is your name, isn't it?" the other Nicholas began – the fake Nicholas – and her eyes flew open. "I think it is."

_He_ was the one holding her arms? She jerked herself violently from his grip. How _dare_ he touch her! "Do not lay your hands on me again!" she hissed, with threat. Antagonised, her levels of anger rose, rising, with it, the pitch of her voice. "Master Sergeant!" She was a step away from hysterical.

Rush glanced over her shoulder. "I don't think he's there," he told her casually.

She backed out of his reach, abruptly, eyes wide in alarm. She did not trust _this_ man! "I warn you," she breathed, voice shaking, betraying her thoroughly, "if you… Don't _you_ touch me!" Her vision blurred, and panic overtook her for a brief moment, before warm tears flooded her cheeks. The tears continued to flow. How could she help it if she cried – he was doing _nothing_! Her Nicholas would have done _something_!

Not even a comforting gaze. An arm, or a softly spoken word.

Her shoulders shook heavily. Oh, God, she was breaking down in front of this stranger! The very sight of him, standing there with his _cold from afar_ eyes, overtook her with offence. He was a betrayal to her Nicholas! To see him like that!

Taking stock, at least, of her limbs, she turned away from him coldly. She would not look upon him, she could bear it no more; she'd have slapped him, if she had looked any longer.

* * *

The sight of the woman who appeared from around the corner filled her with warmth and hope, but she saw, even before the greeting sprung to her lips, that this was not her Tammy.

_T.J._, she recalled, turning slowly, painfully to ice. _Oh, Tamara!_

"Chloe?" T.J.'s eyes moved over her, then settled on her prominent belly.

She stepped backward, wiping tears from her face with shaking fingers, and banged into someone behind her. She let out a tortured cry, burrowing into herself.

Oh, what had she done? What had she ever done? What was wrong? Oh, God, please!

She sunk quickly to the floor, then, wrapping arms about herself and the unborn baby. She would be safe like this. They could not hurt her, anymore. Not anymore.

* * *

**Destiny's Variance** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _Stargate: Universe_ or any of its characters.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who is she?" a quiet, familiar voice asked.

And then, an even more familiar voice, though, not the same, "I honesty haven't a clue."

Chloe opened her eyes, though she didn't want to, at all. What else could she do? She remembered being coaxed into returning to her feet, then being led away, and then – the room in which she now lay.

The woman standing what could only be described as less than the length of a stride from the doorway – as though repelled, Chloe thought – shared her physical appearance immaculately, except for the hair – this other woman's hair was arranged differently – and her eyes, now turned to the man standing beside her.

Chloe's stomach hurt as it clenched. She would have never regarded Nicholas with the air that this woman – this strange, other Chloe – regarded the man whose gaze she held with a dark spark of distrust, and deeper, a painful twist of hatred.

As if dredging memories from another lifetime, Chloe thought back to her father.

_Oh, father._

Her father had died to save them, he'd sacrificed himself – the less – for she, and all the others who'd found themselves stranded onboard the _Destiny_ – the many – when first they'd come through the Stargate, fleeing from the besieged Icarus base, heavily under attack.

Her father had died, and this other Chloe could not forgive that, not yet.

She thought, then, of the few science fiction novels she'd read before, before the _Destiny_. She'd somehow entered into an alternate reality, she thought, and felt her heart sinking slowly further down into murky depths.

She could not stay here, but how could she return?

She did not belong here; here, or with these people.

Somewhere, Nicholas worried for her, she thought, for the baby. Their baby; his family. _Don't worry_, she thought as hard as she could, _we're fine. We're coming home soon, baby. Don't worry for us, we'll be back with you soon; sooner than you know it._

"She looks like me," the other Chloe contested, unspoken volumes between them. _Aren't you the leader, the scientist? You know damn well!_ Then, "What's wrong with her?"

"Pardon, was that directed at me, or T.J.?" Rush asked, his voice sharp with sarcasm. "I've got to tell you, first off, that I don't see T.J. anywhere, and if-"

Chloe Armstrong folded her arms and pivoted back the way she had come, to the door, walking through it, and away out of sight, her footsteps growing quieter with each footfall. _Forget it!_

"On the surface, it appears an effective offensive, keeps them comfortably detached from you, and you from them, until they come back, with something other than attachment in mind," Chloe summarised her thoughts, struggling into, first, a sit, and then a stand, as she slid her legs from the bed and touched floor with her feet, shivering at the cold hardness of it.

"You're a therapist, now?"

"You make them cold and they will remain that way; cold fire burns, too."

"You're very amusing," Rush told her, his gaze unflinching against hers.

"No, I'm not," Chloe corrected, "and neither do you find me in such a manner. Your words are untruths. You're lying, and you will so again." Low, with seriousness, now, she said, "I see that; _I feel it._"

"No, not a therapist any longer, but a telepath?"

"Do not even try; you waste your efforts," she told him, as she padded neared, intent, now, on the doorway.

Rush stepped quickly into line with the door, blocking her exit. "Are you forgetting something, hmm? A discharge pass?"

Her eyes turned hard with coldness. She had no time for _him_. "Your first wife: did she hurt you, or did you hurt her? Perhaps you hurt each other?"

Unflinching, undiluted hatred filled his face, then, and she felt a sharp sting against her face.

"Are you done?" she asked, unwavering. She wasn't tall, at least, she'd never considered herself to be, but she was enough tall to stand her ground, and even if this ground wasn't _hers_ to be stood upon, she would, by goodness, stand upon it. "Make you happy, did it? Set everything to rights?" Her eyes flashed, glimmering resoluteness. "If you're finished, I'd like to pass, thank you, sir," she reported stiffly.

She was not his Chloe – she was human, soldier and companion – and though she'd neither been instated as such by any military of Earth, and she had never, not once, referred after Nicholas by 'sir,' to this abominable stranger, she would.

If that meant he would step aside, then she would.

Instead, he stood stiller than perhaps any living thing should, red in the face, and glared. Glared, as though he thought a glare from him could mean anything to her, after all that he'd worked so hard to ignore _her_ hurt, _her_ feelings.

And she smiled.

* * *

"Dr. Rush?" And at the sound of T.J.'s voice, as though it had been more than a name, a magical incantation, an answering smile leapt to his face, still red, and, a moment later, he turned swiftly about and took his leave of the Infirmary.

T.J.'s confused face appeared, then, before her, and Chloe felt the smile slide from her own face; there was no need for it now, there was nothing to smile about.

"Are you alright, hon?" T.J. asked, suddenly alerted. "Did you have an argument?"

Chloe's eyes travelled slowly to her, remembering them, but now, too, making new memorise of this other, foreign person. "T.J., how is my baby?"

T.J. bobbed her head, of course, and hurried forward. "Just sit back, hon," she instructed. "There you go, on the bed; just like before."

T.J. would be someone to trust, Chloe decided.

* * *

"Must you _always_ grind? I want to put my hands around your throat and choke the life from you, sometimes," Chloe spat, making herself at home in the room, already.

Rush didn't bother to lift his gaze from the console at which he was, presumedly, working.

"Who do you think you are?" she drawled, steps becoming swaggers. "You're human, too, the same as any of us?"

"You would know so much about being human," Rush bit under his breath, eyes downcast, on the console.

Chloe grinned, her face etched from sarcastic anger. Were they getting somewhere, perhaps? "Oh, I wouldn't? I didn't lose my father? He's still alive? I wonder where he might be hiding, then. Where should I look for him? How about _you_ run a life signs scan?" A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat. "That's what you _do_, isn't it? That's your 'thing'? Scientist before human being?"

"Get out!"

Her terrible grin blossomed further. "Why don't you come over here and _make me_?" The swagger in her voice.

Shaking now, not just his hands, with fury, Rush straightened, lifting his gaze to hers.

Chloe's smile twitched; she was enjoying herself. "Oooh! Witchy!"

The room, and the surrounding corridors, turned black.

She stopped breathing, and bit back the angry cry of "What?" before it crossed her lips. Remain alert, she told herself. She heard the sound of movement, and, before she could help it, "What'll you do?" _Damn it!_

"I didn't do this, brat, so you can just keep it to yourself," Rush replied back snidely.

He was talking to her as though she was a small child, or infant, and although she couldn't see exactly from which direction he'd spoken, she had _heard_, alright!

Her smile stretched, and dropped away into a hard, angry line.

"Wait!"

A growl rumbled through her chest. Wait! Wait, be damned! She wasn't waiting for anything – she was taking him down _now_, whilst she had the chance!

"Just 'wait,' I said!"

"For what," she snarled, "you to wave your wand, _and make it all better?_" Her voice dripped with her thoughts, dark, molten and deadly. He was pathetic, nothing more than absolutely _pathetic_!

"Be silent and _listen_, Chloe!"

She giggled, and cackled. "Listen!" she mocked, in a singsong voice. "Listen! Shut up, Chloe, and listen! They're coming! Oooh, the big, bad, ravenous _space_ monsters!" He'd called her _Chloe_, the bastard – and he'd told her to shut up! "Space guns ready, soldiers! Hut! Aim, and-" A muffled sound followed as a hand was planted over her mouth – and the lights came back on.

Rage sparked in her eyes and she struggled with all of her anger and might, and, when she'd been released, twirled about, raising a fist to punch whoever it was who'd put their _hand_ over her mouth, though, she knew exactly who it'd been. She was going to punch him until she was stopped, dragged away, screaming and clawing, or she broke her fingers!

"Chloe, stop!" Calm, in control, in charge. Irresistible.

Magical spells be damned, she froze. Didn't know why; just couldn't fight it. A smile spread across her face. "It's behind you," she said. _You lose_; quiet victory, pleasure.

And, of course, though there was nothing, he turned, _anyway_, to look, and though she hadn't broken – safely hidden, safely encapsulated – she ran, _anyway_.

_Live to fight another day_, she thought, as she ran.

Away, away.

Away.


	3. Chapter 3

It would be so much better, so much easier, she thought, if she was to feel nothing about him, a cold, quiet distaste, born of knowing – know he's a jerk, know he thinks he's better, than us – and nothing more; no anger.

It would be that much more convenient, that much more soothing, and then there was reality, and this thing that she did feel for him. Anger, anger that wanted – no, _demanded_ – action, and hate. Demanded, and demanded again.

_He'd_ killed her father; _he_ was going to kill them _all_, in the end!

Simply, all she needed to do was kill him before he killed her, or something like that. Undermine his authority, have him put _down_, down to the level that he saw them all as existing on, from up there. Stop him, at all costs!

And she _hated_ that, as much as she hated him, it seemed. In constant competition; unresolved, always. She hated that she hated him as much as she did, that she would be willing to kill him to stop him, but _he'd_ done it to her, _he'd_ made her this way.

_No, darlin'_, a distant part of her would argue, _no one, not no one can ever make you anything that ain't already on the cards for makin'; you fight it baby girl, fight it and win!_ And maybe that part of her had her mother's voice, and maybe it didn't.

"You honestly nothing, you liar!" she hissed as she paced, paced to match her thoughts, pacing in her mind, round and round; couldn't stop, couldn't settle.

_We're all valuable, as human beings._

_Not you; you're not!_ she menaced, inside her mind. He wasn't human, not like the rest of them; he didn't _want_ to be human, wanted to be something else.

Something else, like the _Destiny_.

_Traitor._

* * *

"What is it like, that other Destiny?" T.J. asked, eyes closed. Her voice a whisper, a caress of her thoughts. She was sitting on the bed beside Chloe; she felt warm. Was it happier? Was it kinder, more warm-hearted?

"Home," Chloe said. What could she say otherwise? What would she say otherwise? She'd spoken the truth.

T.J. opened her eyes; Eli stood in the doorway. "Is that what you believe, in your heart of hearts?" she asked, as if Eli wasn't there; not yet.

"Yes, it is," Chloe replied. "I'd hoped I wouldn't; I'd hoped it would take some selling."

"But it hasn't?"

Chloe shook her head softly.

"Chloe, you okay?" Eli's voice drifted in from the door, reservedly concerned, so unlike everything else about him, loud and smart mouth, in its own way. _Math boy, yo! Betcha, math gramps!_

"Okay," Chloe assured him, softly.

Eli shuffled into the room, further. To see with his own two eyes, the truth. He sucked in a breath. "Who're you?" before he could sensor. _Stupid, stupid!_

"Eli, would you call Dr. Rush to the Infirmary for me, hon?"

A wordless nod; _I will, for you._ He shuffled out again, picked up his feet on the way out, the danger at his back, now. _Should have asked, "What's up with you, then?" No fear, no foreshadowing. Anything else, Eli, anything else entirely!_

Strange, that he couldn't find T.J.'s 'hon' threatening, couldn't find it patronising, not like the words of other girls he'd known, from Earth. _She's a woman_, he thought,_ a real woman, with real feelings; she doesn't need to put someone else down to believe in what she is. She's not some girl, who needs to believe she would look better Goth, or blonde, or, maybe, if her hips weren't so big, ugly; if her eyes were blue; if she was tall and leggy._

In the eye's of those girls, T.J. had no reason for complaint; she already looked _that_ good. Why should she lack in confidence, why should she wonder if she was loveable?

_You'll be loved, T.J._, Eli thought, _you'll be loved, I promise._

* * *

Minutes later, Eli returned with Rush.

T.J. turned away from the storage space she'd been organising, arranging for easier access. "Chloe thinks she knows what happened," she spoke to them both, not as a group, but as individuals, separately, though she spoke only once. The truth was held in her eyes.

She did not assess Eli with the same gaze as she assessed Rush, nor thought of Rush the in same way that she thought of Eli.

She turned, then, toward Chloe and walked over. "Chloe, honey, do you feel like sharing?"

Chloe rose to her feet. "I noticed a power outage, earlier," she began. "A similar problem had been occurring on our Destiny prior to my finding myself here, with you. T.J. tells me that this incident was the first of its kind, for you. I don't know _what_ is causing the drainages, but I know that I am not on the same vessel that I was on before, and, therefore, I realise that I have to consider the possibility that I've somehow been transported between realities."

"Realities?" Rush questioned blankly.

"Yes," Chloe confirmed, maintaining politeness. It had not been right, earlier, when she'd provoked him, she had decided. Not right by him, or by Nicholas. She should not have expected him to be more like someone he was not.

When her thoughts clearer enough for her to take a peek through them, she saw that Rush had left.

Eli's gaze was stuck, locked with T.J.'s, as though they had began a silent conversation, but were somehow unable to end it, or to communicate properly.

"I do not believe that I am trapped, comatose, in a bed, somewhere, or that my mind has been linked to a machine or being of some form capable of conjuring such a vivid, but varied reality," she voiced. It was real; it had happened.

"That would be _creepy_," Eli chipped in. "I mean, there's us, too. And we're experiencing it, too. If you were unconscious, then we'd all have to be, too, and, well, I'm just taking a wild shot at an educated guess here, but, if there was some device manipulating our thoughts for whatever reason, then that'd be _some_ mother. I mean, it'd take some juice." He dulled. "Some mega-sized power source," he rephrased. "And _my head_ feels fine; no bumps, or lumps."

T.J. smiled, Eli smiled back.

Chloe closed her eyes.

* * *

"And the answer is?"

"You are not allowed in here," Rush told her.

Chloe crossed her arms and stepped into the room, making big eyes. Hang on, had she just come_ inside_? "Okay, Mr. Rush, I mean, _Nicky_! _Oops!_" She pulled a face. "_You're not allowed to talk to me, Chloe! You're mean!_" she nattered, in a childish voice.

No rebukes, no smart comment.

She strolled further into the room and tilted her head to the side to look around the closest console she'd come upon. "Where's Eli?" She moved forward and poked her head around the next console. "I can't hear _you_, either!" she told him.

"Chloe, have you seen the other Chloe?" Eli's breathy voice washed over the room.

Chloe spun about, and unfurled her arms to wave.

Eli nodded, stopping for breath. He'd obviously run.

"I have," she answered, "so who's responsible for the bun-in-"

"If you please, I'm working. Apologies, I _was_," Rush cut in.

"Oh, bugger off!" Chloe dismissed him, and headed for the door and Eli.

Eli's eyes widened. They were arguing? Did they always have to argue?

Rush fixed Chloe with a glare; she couldn't provoke him, she'd already had her fun today.

She narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger at him. "Don't even _think_ about calling me that!" she warned.

"Call you what?" Eli asked.

She shrugged. It wasn't worth it. "So whose kid is it?"

"Don't know," Eli replied honestly, as they left the laboratory.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe lay down in bed and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. She knew that she shouldn't let him get to her – she was an _adult_, as much as he was, right; as much as person, a _human_ – but she couldn't trust him, and she wasn't the only one, either, and a group should have been able to trust their leader with the wellness of the group.

She promised herself to dream good, safe dreams.

* * *

Chloe woke to the sound of screaming. Her throat was burning, and her chest. The screaming had to stop, she was going to throw up. _It's me,_ she thought cloudily, _I'm screaming, just me._

The screaming died, her chest felt better when she could breathe.

She hugged her arms to herself.

Alone.

A shiver overcame her.

That was what they'd thought then, too.

We're alone; just alone.

It had started as the classical setup: a single spark of _what if_, there's something in the water; paranoia, mass hysteria and pandemonium ensued.

Except, there _had_ been something in the water.

Something more than water!

A chill settled upon her that drowned out her shivering. What if they'd not escaped the Teem? What if, instead, the Teemers had found a way to get inside their heads and _make_ them think that they'd gotten away?

_No!_ she protested.

The Teem was gone, at least from their radars. Nicholas had made sure of it. He would not have lied to her.

She let her arms fall to her sides.

No, this was something else altogether. She needed to sleep, for the baby, and for her.

* * *

She woke a second time, third time, or first time – she couldn't remember if she'd woken before, or how many times it had been – to the sound of her own screams.

_It's over_, she told herself, repetitiously. But here, on _this_ ship, it may not have begun yet.

Her eyes gathered tears.

_Maybe it will not happen to them_, she thought, and the baby gave a kick, as though to protest that it would, that it always would.

The tears leaked out as she sat, and, giving up on the idea of stemming them, she slipped out of bed.

* * *

Rush's quarters were the same that she'd shared with Nicholas on her version of the _Destiny_, which certainly helped her search a bit, but didn't explain how to get in. She began pounding on the door softly with flat palms.

She'd be able to get back to sleep once she'd told him.

"Wake up, please wake up," she murmured, and began pounding in earnest, hands made into fists. "Wake up, wake up."

After a couple of minutes, her hands growing sore, she gave up pounding, and rested her forehead to the door, closing her eyes softly, then more tightly. _Dr. Rush_, she thought, _I've something to tell you, please wake up. It's important, Dr. Rush._

She slid down the door, drawing her knees up to her belly as much as she could. He would wake up soon, she told herself, all she had to do was wait. All she had to do was wait.

* * *

She dreamed of a piano, and the songs that Nicholas had hummed for the baby when she couldn't sleep, the little tickle against her belly when he'd whispered secrets to their unborn baby, that had wrinkled her nose, and how she'd held her hands to her ears, pretending it really was a secret.

She dreamed it wasn't just a hummed melody, but that it was music; that it was played on a real piano, and whether it was back on Earth, or not, she didn't know.

She smiled.

* * *

Struggling into awareness, Rush realised he'd woken, as he did every night, halfway through the night, and, as he did every night, then, he would take a walk through the ship before trying for sleep again.

At the door, however, he came to an abrupt half, having almost pitched over the person who'd thought it a clever idea to take a nap in front of his door.

In the dead of the night, no less.

Well, in the dead of what had been decided upon to be thought of as 'night,' as it would be on Earth.

It took a few moments to recognise who that someone was, and that, in fact, she should have still been in the Infirmary.

For the love of God, would he have to slap her again to get her to wake up? He sincerely hoped it would not come to that, and knelt down to place a hand on her arm, and paused, his hand hovering for a moment, before it was lowered.

Honestly, if he'd believed in any sort of luck outside of action/reaction, then he'd have been led to conclude that he'd been dealt a particularly strong case of bad luck, recently. As it stood, and he did not, he couldn't help thinking it, anyway.

If it had been anyone else, but, of course, it had had to be her. Of course.

He wondered if it would not be in order to rouse T.J., but the medic needed her sleep, too, as did the rest of them; especially T.J., in fact, as a medical officer. She'd need to be alert to competently tackle whatever was thrown up at her, not dozing off whenever the screaming or whining got too 'quiet.'

He would just have to wake the woman himself, and, if then, she thought that it was warranted to wake T.J. – there was something wrong with the baby – he'd have to concede, he supposed.

He reached out a hand again, and withdrew it again.

For God's sake, he told himself, the woman was pregnant.

A sharp cry resounded as he attempted to lift the woman up to get her to the bed, deciding he'd let her sleep there until he returned from his walk, and try to wake her then. Startled, he tightened his grip on her so as not to drop her.

Her eyes flew open as curtains in a wind, the window left open on a clear day, and dark horror flooded from them. Her eyes snapped to his. "They took them apart," she ranted. "They took them apart, and put them back together. Except, they weren't people anymore, they were just things, like robots, another piece for their machine; a part of the Teem."

"What team is that?" he asked, starting to wonder if she was entirely sane, in fact.

"The Teem," she breathed, her eyes wide. _I'm still there_, she thought, _he's not my Nicholas._ She moaned. "I am perfectly of capable of sustaining myself on my own two legs, thank you, sir," she told him civilly.

Rush took his arms from around her and stepped away, giving her some space.

Straightening, Chloe adopted a serious face, and matching tone. "I have come to warn you," she told him.

"A warning," he commented. "As to?"

"The Teem."

"The Teem again."

She grimaced. He was not taking her for serious.

"Do go on," he encouraged.

She allowed herself a steadying breath, before she continued.


	5. Chapter 5

The tale told, Rush led her to his bed, and she didn't argue, just lay down to sleep and closed her eyes, and slept.

He left, then, to wake the others to which he'd need to relay the events that had taken place of the alternate _Destiny_. As much as he wanted to believe that this Chloe's baby was just that, a baby, he could not helping the creeping suspicion that it was something else, that, if just one cell was Teem, then the entirety of the Destiny, and the innumerable worlds out there, were in incredible, possibly unstoppable danger.

Though he could have chosen to discredit her story, he'd, instead, opted to believe it.

She, herself, she'd told him, had been dismantled; it had only been the fact that she'd not been dismantled entirely that had allowed her to hold on until she was reassembled again, whole, but with all of her cells still hers, unconverted as Teemers. If she'd have been dismantled completely before being reassembled, she'd admitted honestly, she was sure she would have died and come back as one of the Teem, a living zombie, part only one, expendable part of a larger collective.

It had been Nicholas who'd saved her, she'd said.

She hadn't said how.

He supposed it was only fair, that way; she wasn't a scientist, after all.

* * *

T.J.'s face drained of colour. "It's not a baby?" she cried.

Frowning, he hurried to correct, "It could well be a baby, it is less certain, however, whether it turns out to be a human baby."

"You think it's one of these 'Teem'?"

"What I'm saying is that a part of it may be, one part of it. But that part may begin to convert the normal, human cells into part of its collective, effectively cultivating a new collective."

Disgust and anger shone clearly in T.J.'s face, but he didn't have to say it, she already knew what he wanted to be done, to be _sure_.

She would begin the test, or however many tests it took to be absolutely certain, tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Every time she opened her mouth, T.J. felt as though she was dying, time after time and all over again. It _killed_ her to have to lie to Chloe, to have to betray her that way, but she had no other choice; _they_ had no other choice.

They had to know.

She left, on legs that quaked beneath her, to relay the outcome of the already completed tests to Rush and the others.

* * *

Letting herself into the meeting room, T.J. caught part of Camille's attempt to deny that the woman's story had any credibility.

"This is absurd, the woman has clearly gone through an extensive trauma, the nature of which can only be guessed-"

She pulled the door closed, fast, after her, and interrupted, without clearing her throat. "It's either a tumour, or it's one of them," she told them.

"What, it's an _alien_?" Camille asked loudly.

Insensitively, T.J thought. "No," she clarified, forcing herself to take her eyes from Rush's and lock them with Camille's, "it's a baby, a human baby, but it's been infected."

Camille spluttered. "What does _that_ mean?" she demanded. She was the only one talking, the others were silent.

"The infection is so minute, I don't…" T.J. dropped her gaze from Camille's, and swept it across the others seated at the table along with her. "I don't think we can help him."

"'Him'? We're giving the alien a gender now?"

T.J's eyes flashed, but she didn't allow herself to rise to it. "The baby, it's a he," she explained. "I don't know what the 'alien' is; I don't know that I want to, or that it'll even possess such a thing as a gender."

"What are we going to do?" Eli asked, finally, meeting T.J.'s eyes. It was so hard for her, he could see.

"I don't know," T.J. admitted wearily, and allowed her gaze go back to Rush's.

Rush leapt to his feet. "Chloe! T.J.!"

T.J. turned just in time to see Chloe sprint out of the room, heading in the direction of the infirmary. She bolted out after her.

She could not seriously be thinking of making it any worse than it already was one that poor woman by telling her that her baby was a goner!

T.J. couldn't believe that the Chloe that she knew would do something like that.

It was a callous act, but, perhaps, considering that the other Chloe was, well, another Chloe, it was like the baby was also partly hers, though it wasn't really.

She pushed herself to run faster. She couldn't have called out if she wanted, she needed all of her air to keep running.

* * *

"Well, there goes that," Camille commented, without humour. "I guess that means we're all a bust."

"That is enough, Camille," Rush snapped.

Camille's eyes flashed menacingly. Had he just done what she thought he'd done, had he just told her to shut it?

"Camille," Eli's beseeching eyes met her own. _Please, don't make it any worse, not now_, he told her silently.

Camille forced her gaze downward. No matter what she'd said, Rush had had no right in addressing _her_ in such a manner, and, moreover, such a cold one, at that.

"I think you all know what must be done," Rush told them, and directed his gaze to the military officers seated around the room.

* * *

Arriving at the Infirmary, Rush found that Chloe – their Chloe – had been sedated, and was 'sleeping,' and that the other, alternate Chloe was crying. "Run the test again," he told T.J. in a low voice.

"I've run it three times again," T.J. protested. "It gives the same result every time."

"Run it again," he growled. He flicked a gaze to Chloe Rush, "And get her in containment. We can't give that thing the chance it needs to contaminate one of our people!"

T.J. watched him stalk out of the Infirmary, before walking over to Chloe, thinking, all the while, of the last thing he'd said, _One of our people._

But Chloe, though not their Chloe, was one of their people; she was human, just as they were. And her baby was… almost all human…

Her eyes stung, but she couldn't let herself break down in front of a patient, nor Camille's watchful eyes, waiting for Rush's instructions to be fulfilled, and for Chloe to be quarantined.

* * *

"I understand," Chloe told her, though tears and hiccuping, "I understand."

T.J. wished she'd never said those two words at all.

The test came back as before.


	7. Chapter 7

The _Destiny's_ logs had no record of the Teem, by that name or otherwise, or of anything remotely resembling the description of its abilities based on what further tests of the baby had given them, coupled with Chloe Rush's testimony, with exception to the Replicators, except that the Teem had appeared to be organic in nature, rather than being a collective of machines, once built by an intelligent, humanoid species.

It was quite everyday, too, the day Chloe Rush disappeared; T.J., privately, liked to think she'd gone home. She'd gone home empty-handed, minus one, but she'd been alive, and she'd come home.

She could not think of it any other way.

* * *

Their own Chloe, in the meantime, had began 'dating' Eli, and T.J. was happy for them. How could she be anything else?

A little bit of happiness on the ship was a little bit of magic, and magic had the tendency to spread its wings at odd moments, and grow.

She could only hope that it did.

(Secretly, she'd named the baby Harry, and said a prayer for him up in his heaven.)


End file.
